Flaunt Magazine

As an ADHD Athiest raised by Jewish parents whose respective families both celebrated Christmas, I recall the holidays as a time of hardship, of enduring a tribulation to which I’m sure evangelicals and agnostics alike can relate: of course I’m talking about falling asleep on Christmas Eve. The unreasonable and ultimately disappointing high expectations of a spoiled child will always render him/her/me tortured by the anticipation for a brief chance to satiate ravenous greed. (Disillusionment’s a bitch.) Enter the night before Christmas, exit sandman.

I remember laying awake in bed, rustlin and harumpf’n, tossin and a turnin, my brother’s hydrocodone suddenly ineffective at previous self-prescribed doses: deep sleep always seemed so far away. Ah, but an upside! The vivid, fleeting nightmares symptomatic of sporadic unconsciousness and borderline schizophrenia. I get homesick just thinking about it.

Eventually, the sun would rise, b.b. guns would prove not to be fatal weapons, my sister would prove to be more spoiled than I, and I’d turn to movies for solace and a source for new nightmares. Here’s a cozy favorite from a director whose work consistently makes me nostalgic for my ruthless nightmares of yore.

Goodnight, sweetheart, well it’s time to go,

Goodnight, sweetheart, well it’s time to go,

I hate to leave you, but I really must say,

“I’ll tear your fucking heart out, girl.”

Christmas cometh, Sinterklaas slouches towards Bethlehem, the center cannot hold. Is it 2012 yet? Are those the bell tolls of the Apocalypse I hear, or the ting-ting-tingaling of good ol’ fashioned domestic abuse? Gather round, boys and girls and victims of emotional neglect, beause it’s time…for…Family Friendly Films. For the rest of the month, I’ll be posting clips from some of my favorite movies for the whole foreclosed family.

And what would the Holidays be without Kris Kringle’s Komeuppance? Satan. Santa. Satan. Santa. Satan. Santa. Think about it. Christmas is only 1335 days away, give or take a few. So, this Christmas, think of the ones you hate. Throw on a Satan suit and chop off their heads with an ax. And if they’re already dead, write them a cathartic note of Holiday cheer and forgiveness.

Dear David Koresh, ILY IMY KIT TTYL.When you’re resurrected as Santa, don’t forget to bring me pwesents (hint: I want better jokes).

And for the rest of you, remember what Koresh sympathizer (at least as a legal defense) Tiny Tim(othy McVeigh) said: “God bless us every gun.” Or was it, “and may all your Christmases be White Power?” Either way, rot in hell, dickheads. You guys were total pieces of shit.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

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Stay tuned later this week. Your life just might depend on it.

The dramatic conclusion to longtime Flaunt contributor Richard Thomas’s recap of this year’s Iceland Airwaves Festival. Zoom zoom zoom.

Part 2
Ah, the Golden Circle, one of Iceland’s premiere tours: A smorgasbord of geysers, waterfalls, fields, and geothermic vents rising up from the black volcanic earth. If you ever find yourself in Iceland, don’t sleep on this trip.

Right, but onto the music then. Friday night saw the opening of the first floor of Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion Idno, a spot usually reserved for posh dining. I’d heard a lot about Bedroom Community, one of Iceland’s premiere record labels, and this was their showcase. Nico Muhly was an unfortunate scratch, but Ben Frost more than made up for his absence. Paired up with insane Tron-meets-Darth-Maul visuals, his version of “Theory of Machines” was loud, sinister, and easily the hottest thing I saw all night. (Think Trent Reznor meets Philip Glass.) Not sure how often this dude leaves the island, but he is not to be missed. He also sat in for Amiina’s set with laptopper Kippi Kaninus, which was also a highlight.

Gus Gus’ DJ set was spot-on, though nowhere near as mind-blowing as their live gig the previous night at the Art Museum. While Iceland has so many talented electronic musicians operating in the experimental genre, they really need some assistance in the straight-up dance music department. Most of what I heard was a bit formulaic and in desperate need of some tech-break funkiness. Even Simian Mobile Disco’s James Ford — whose DJ set was marred by technical difficulties — couldn’t break the mold open. After a little Seabear at the Reykjavik Art Museum, I decided to head back to Tunglid where Michael Mayer – who had missed his previous time slot – was dropping crazy techno madness.

For better or worse, Robots in Disguise put on the most entertaining set of the night. I’m still waiting on feedback from the band, but apparently the venue cut them off early and the girls were completely pissed. Something about them showing up late (which they didn’t) or taking too much time to set-up (possible), but the crowd was having none of it. After some bitching, moaning and clapping, the band got their instruments plugged in and jammed out one more tune (sans backing track or visuals): the infectious and appropriately titled, “We’re In The Music Biz.”

As annoying as it was for RiD to get bumped, the band after them totally blew the place up. FM Belfast are basically the Icelandic Polyphonic Spree, and do a smooth cover of RATM’s “Killing in the Name Of” called “Lotus.” The ironic bit about this band is that while there are upwards of 17 people on stage, there’s only one dude actually playing music. Sure, everyone has some kind of hand instrument, but after homeboy presses play on his machine, everyone else just sings and goes nuts. Totally brilliant!

fin

According to Flaunt’s Music Editor/Universal Overlord, Trent Buckroyd, “longtime Flaunt contributor Richard Thomas [whom we sent to this year’s Iceland Airwaves Festival in Reykjavik] loves music and whale sushi. This year’s Iceland Airwaves Festival featured performances by Ane Brun, GusGus, Crystal Castles as well as more than 100 other bands and managed to satisfied both of those cravings. Don’t tell PETA.”

Thomas reports for Flaunt.com with a two party recap from the land of elves, sorcery, and bankruptcy:

Part 1 - You Are In Control

The 10th installment of Iceland Airwaves is in the books, and from the wide selection of artists to the jaw-dropping landscape and exchange rate, I’d have to say this is by far one of the best international music festivals one could possibly attend. Let’s just hope the now-bankrupt country can hold it together long enough to warrant an 11th go-around next year.

As with any foreign excursion, the first order of business is to familiarize one’s self with the surroundings. The first thing you’ll notice walking around the city is an abundance of incredible street art: from big and ornate to small and simple, there’s a ton of eye candy to take in (and, naturally, the omnipresent work Banksy has made it to the streets of Iceland.) There are also, like, three stoplights and even fewer stop signs. And cars come in two sizes: micro and gargantuan. Right of way isn’t a courtesy, it’s a metaphysical concept. Furthermore, the people are extremely nice, and I can ask all my stupid questions in English because nearly everyone speaks it. And since the Brits are the ones feeling the ire of the Icelandic people, it pays to be American.

After taking in some of the lectures and panels at You Are In Control — the conference portion of the festival put on by the fine folks at the Iceland Music Export — I indulged myself with some local cuisine. Although the beer in Iceland leaves a lot to be desired, the cappuccinos are exquisite, which probably has more to do with the ultra-creamy milk that may or may not come from a cow. Also impressive: the local record shop’s selection of bargain CDs, which included a healthy dose of the Iron Maiden back catalog.

My first stop was Tunglid to check out Hellvar, whose new album, Bat Out Of Hellvar (ZING!), is ultra catchy and a total worthy purchase. Like a lot of Icelandic rock/pop, this band has a bit of an 80’s synth-pop influence, but minus the kitsch. Next up was Vicky, an all-girl band (save for a guy on drums) that rocked out NASA, one of the festival’s larger venues. The lead singer knows how to belt out a tune, and both guitarists have killer stage presence and good hair. Hot Topic will love this band.

Caught a bit more music on night two after getting some shut-eye. Hit up Tunglid once again to peep ex-Sugarcubes trumpeter Einar Orn Benediktsson’s new band, Ghostigital. Dude is definitely pushing the sonic envelope here, to say nothing of his fresh wool sweater. This was as much performance art as it was a glitch-hop explosion, and by far the biggest f-you to my eardrums thus far.

I then bounced over to the Reykjavik Art Museum to catch the end of Florence and the Machine. First off, this venue is spectacular…like a cross between a bank vault and the inside of a cruise ship. Stunning design and great acoustics. Florence’s brassy voice really filled the spot and the band was super tight. Expect more great things from this band in the coming months.

From there I hit up Organ to check out Norway’s Therese Aune, whose write-up in the Airwaves program immediately caught my eye the night before: “Oh piano, how beautiful you sound especially when Therese Aune plays you. She plays you loudly, then quietly and always emotionally. To Therese, you mean everything.” Unfortunately, silence also means everything to Therese, of which there was little of at this packed venue. Definitely check out the tracks on her Myspace.

The next band I caught up with were UK rockers Young Knives. Very British, very cheeky, and lots of stage banter about “micro-penises” and whatnot. They closed out strong with an epic rendition of “Current of the River,” the final track on this year’s full-length, Superabundance.

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Stay tuned for the riveting, sex-and-blood-filled conclusion to Richard Thomas’s Iceland Airwaves experience later this week. Seriously, it will blow your cum socks out of your mindhole.

The clickonomics of Obama.com took a giant leap today, squelching further The Bush Regime’s policy of hiding how fucked the American people are from the American people, reinforcing Barack’s 21st century policy of telling us how fucked we are directly to our stupid faces. (A Change We Can All Grive In!)

The Prez Elect will do so by continuing to display the technoratory abilities that helped win him the election: each week, 2.Obama will publish on Youtube his democratic address. Sort of like FDR’s “fireside chats,” except instead of sitting near a wholesome fireplace, the President reminds us that we’re all engulfed in flames of doom; and in lieu of a cozy living room, Obama seems to be sitting in the “office” of some personal injury attorney advertising on late-night TBS (love that faux-fica), which seems like a perfectly reasonable way to reach millions of assholes.

Check here to see the video.

Oh shit. Wrong video. To see Obama’s Weekly Address, click here.

Tomorrow, the election will be over. If Barack Obama is elected, his first order of business is to have Shepard Fairey resdesign the two dollar bill, and mainstream graffiti artists will finally declare victory after years of struggling to completely eradicate any notion of or nostalgia for their earnest, statement-conscious guerilla beginnings; sort of like James Belushi in Curly Sue; holmes got all fancy and shit and forgot where he came from.

In related news: also tomorrow, the Carmichael Gallery will moderate a panel discussion for collectors featuring “experts from the Urban Art movement” at the Sunset Boulevard location of Bonhams and Butterfields auction house. Panelists include the aforementioned Fairey, UK artist Charming Baker (panda bear below), film director Jon Reis, whose documentary Bomb It, documents the “new contemporary art movement that has risen out of street and graffiti art,” and Shana Nys Dambrot, governess of good taste, humor and hipness as art critic and managing editor of Flavorpil.

The panel discussion is in conjunction with the Carmichael’s new exhibition, Pour Me Some Smoke, open November 6th through the 30th. The exhibiton features artists Charming Baker (panda below), Case, Guy Denning, Ian Strawn and TRXTR, with a reception on opening night from 7pm-Midnight. Go get a free drink. Cheers. Here’s to keeping the streets clean.

TRXTR’s “Kate Escape”

Address: Carmichael Gallery of Contemporary Art
1257 N. La Brea Avenue
W. Hollywood CA 90038

Opening reception: November 6th from 7.00pm ­ - Midnight
Exhibition Dates: November 6th ­- November 30th

On March 12, 1955, while the sounds of Tommy Dorsey’s trombone sang televised into Nica De Koenigswarter’s room at the Stanhope Hotel, Charlie Parker died on her sofa. But not before the hostess, Pannonica “Nica” de Koenigswarter, a member of the English branch of the Rothschild family, was able to celebrate her friend The Bird by not merely hosting his performances at her Weehawken home, a jazz-haunt and known locale for many a late-night jam-sesh, but by capturing polaroids of Parker and asking him, simply, with childlike sweetness, if he had three wishes, what would they be?

This patron saint of hepcats and hi-hat hipsters, “Bebop Baroness” Pannonica photographed the jazz scene throughout the 50s; from 1961-66, she asked the soul-singers and brass blasters who adored her what their three wishes might be, taking notes in leather-bound Hermès journals. John Coltrane, Duke Ellington, Miles Davis, Charles Mingus, Coleman Hawkins, and Louis Armstrong are just a few of the 300 jazz musicians included in her journals.

Pannonica cleaned and collected her photos and their wishes and attempted (but failed) to publish them. A couple years ago, however, her granddaughter managed to finally get the fabulous and essential work into print. And tomorrow, to celebrate the English-language reprint, Three Wishes: An Intimate Look at Jazz Greats (Abrams Image), as well as the great Pannonica herself, the humble historians and art afficianados at Hermès pay her tribute and show honor of her toting their leather-engraved name to the dark, smokey holes of New York mid-century hip by hosting— much like the Baroness did herself— these iconic jazz legends to gather (albeit in photo form) into their boutique for one final jam.

The exhibition of original prints from Three Wishes: An Intimate Look at Jazz Greats will be on view, beginning tomorrow, October 31, at Hermès, 691 Madison Avenue. A Halloween treat indeed.

Sarah Palin née Health, 1984 Miss Alaska Beauty Pageant Runner-Up. Isn’t she lovely?

False enchantment can last a lifetime
-W.H. Auden

Flaunt’s associate fashion editor Matthew Henson reports:

New York City- During the mayhem that is New York Fashion Week, designer Miuccia Prada invited all of NYC’s bon vivants to Prada’s Broadway Epicenter to celebrate the release of her latest animated short, Fallen Shadows. Once I was plucked from the crowd at the door, Team PRADA USA escorted me to a private screening room, which was a departure from last season, where the film was shown amidst the partygoers and Pradaphiles. Fallen Shadows is a darker continuation of last season’s Trembled Blossoms. This time, Miuccia’s film takes us through a journey of self-discovery for a woman clad in Prada Fall ‘08, whose shadow lives the life she wishes to live. It’s an outer-body and utterly beautiful story. And given that the movie is only about four minutes long, one can only imagine what Miuccia could have done with an hour long film. I know I don’t speak for myself when I say, “Miu, we want more!” Now I’m left with grandiose fantasies of what she’ll deliver next time. Until next season, my sweet. Until next season!

sweet lovers love the spring

…the soul is a captive, treated humanely, kept
In suspension, unable to advance much farther
Than your look as it intercepts the picture.
-John Ashbery

Honey you know I’d die for you
They got your number, scared and runnin’
But I’m still waitin’ for the second coming
of Ophelia. Come back home.
-The Band